


Red Sky at Night

by anzhelo



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Background Relationships, Eye Trauma, Mermaids, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Salvador's Abuela, They aren't mentioned much :/, but they're there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-23 22:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anzhelo/pseuds/anzhelo
Summary: The events of six treasure hunting pirates and the Hyperion military ship in their race to find the undersea vault of the Warrior. Set in the late 1700's, loosely following the plot of Borderlands 2.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was shamelessly based on the Captain Scarlett DLC heads, which I'm in love with. Just a few things are changed in this story appearance-wise (Axton doesn't have dreadlocks, Salvador's head isn't a literal skull, more to be explained later). I have a lot of ideas for this fic and I'm hoping I can keep my motivation up to include more chapters later on!

                Axton, to be quite honest, felt rather betrayed. He supposed he had this coming, being responsible for quite a few deaths of his fellow sailors and all. But as he stood at the edge of the Dahl military ship, with a sword poking his back distractingly, he still felt a sense of infidelity. He thought his confutation with Sarah, his fiancée, would help his case just a tad. Maybe she couldn’t convince the captain, that would have been understandable, but Axton at least expected them to elope, perhaps steal a lifeboat and sail to the mainland and away from the wretched seas. If Axton was completely honest, he couldn’t care less about sailing, and the ocean. But it seemed that, as irony would have it, his execution would be the result of these decisions. He thought Sarah would’ve helped a bit, at least. He’d joined the Navy for her after all, but she just stood by the captain with a cold look on her face and a pistol in her hand. Axton was a dead man.

                He looked anxiously at his choices of execution; sword, sea, or bullet. None of them looked particularly better than the other, and Axton wasn’t keen on actually dying anyhow. But his chances of survival weren’t looking great, in fact they seemed nonexistent. Axton sighed in defeat, looking down at the churning sea, the glittering of fish, the soft swaying of lifeboats…

                Wait, lifeboats. Like, right underneath where he had to jump.

                Was this Sarah’s planning? Was she helping him escape?

                Axton jumped, bracing himself as his body hit the wooden floor of the small boat with a thud, not a splash, that drew the attention of the many sailors aboard. He feverishly began slicing at the thick ropes holding the lifeboat up, not stopping when a gunshot rang past his ear. And another, and another, he had to move fast, he had to-

                An explosion of warmth from his left eye sent the man almost sprawling off the boat, quickly followed by torrents of pain that echoed harshly throughout his head. But self-preservation kept him moving, adrenaline dulling the pain of his socket as the last rope was cut and the lifeboat fell with such force that again, Axton nearly fell out.

                He scrambled for the oars, clutching his hand over his wounded eye and feeling repulsed by the goop that dripped through his fingers. If he wasn’t so focused on escaping, Axton was sure he would’ve thrown up on the spot. Instead he righted his oars and began to paddle, small grunts of pain escaping his chapped lips, while splinters went flying from yet another gunshot.

                “Axton!” called his fiancée, causing the wounded sailor to look up in hope. Was Sarah going to jump after him? Would they really elope and live in a cabin on the mainland? With roses along the windows and a garden in the back where perhaps their future child could play with their future dog, until Sarah rung the dinner bell, and they’d all eat together. Their room would have so many windows they could watch the sun set behind the hills-

                Sarah tossed their engagement ring, almost carelessly, it was a miracle it landed in the lifeboat really. Axton looked down at it, then up at Sarah, hope clearly dying in his eyes. She gave him the same cold look before turning around, the majority of the crew leaving with her. So much for that dream, he thought with a defeated sigh. He picked up his oars again, while the waves pushed him mercifully farther away from the ship. Each stroke caused an ominous feeling to sink deeper and deeper in his body. Was Sarah honestly leaving him for good? _His_ Sarah? The woman he had grown so dependent on for validation and confidence? Without this wonderfully stern woman, he felt empty, worthless. He really thought she was on his side for this one. He was only a few yards away from the ship, but already he missed his fiancée. But then again, it was his own fault for getting into so much trouble in the first place. Axton kept this in mind as he worked hard to put more distance between his lifeboat and the Dahl military ship, which was still shooting at him. He should be glad he was alive, after all.

 

 

                After a few hours, the ship was out of sight, and Axton was alone in the sea. He had tied his kerchief around his head after his eye (or what was left of it anyway) had stopped bleeding. The adrenaline had worn off, and the pain pounded in his head like a caged animal. He was hot as well, and gathered the majority of his clothes and shoes in a bundle by his feet, save for a worn white shirt and his pants. The sun was high in the sky, and without shade or water Axton was beginning to feel an awful heat-sickness. He was just heading East for now; it was a direction he knew of and was away from the route of the ship. He kept rowing his same steady pace, but he was beginning to grow so tired, despite the blinding brightness of the sun and its reflection against the sea. Axton found himself thinking of Sarah, of the men he got killed, of his bed at home, back when he was a kid…

                Axton shook his head furiously- a bad move that made his socket pound in agony- and kept rowing. Reminiscing got him nowhere, he had to focus on the important things. Rowing East would most definitely get him to a shore of _some_ sort, he may be able to snatch a floating carcass if he was lucky, perhaps a sea-bird that could land on his boat. It was likely, and as the day wore on, he grew hungry as well as thirsty.

                The problem of obtaining water was something Axton was trying to avoid, for some reason. Honestly he couldn’t come up with an acceptable excuse for why he didn’t want to confront the problem. He just couldn’t think of anything realistic honestly, and letting that get to him would probably put a damper on his spirits. Not that they weren’t dulled enough already.

                His head ached, his face was sticky with blood and other fluids, his skin burned and cracked under the hot sun, his stomach growled and cramped, his chest felt constricted and tight. He looked up- the sun was already starting to set?! God, he felt so sick, so tired. He body was too stiff and sore to carry on much longer. Hell, he was wheezing past his swollen tongue. So much for floating carcasses or sea-birds, Axton was going to die alone, in the middle of the ocean.

 

 

                Salvador never really cared much about appearances, or reputations for that matter. But it seemed the two went hand in hand, and with the Spaniard quickly gaining fame as the most infamous one-man pirate crew of the seven seas, he figured he might as well look the part. His face was basically tattooed to look like a skull, and it certainly gave his poor Abuela a fright when he came to visit after a few hard months of plundering. She grew accustomed to it throughout the week he visited however, and pinched his cheek and kissed his forehead like he was still her rowdy, ten-year-old grandson, and not a singular terror of the seas. Now, Salvador was strolling by the beach, humming softly to himself during his final days he had with his Abuela before he had to leave again. Was there anyone he loved more than his sweet, caring grandmother? Of course not. Salvador didn’t even know anyone other than her. No one that wasn’t dead, anyway,

                As he trudged along the sand, watching the sun set behind the horizon and kicking up sand beneath his boots. Spotting something a few dozen yards ahead, he picked up his pace, squinting to try and see what it was. As he drew nearer, he thought it was a beached whale calf; how lucky it would’ve been if it was. But alas, it was a lifeboat that looked like it had sunken into the sand a few hours earlier. It was hardly battered; it must’ve only drifted here. Inside, to Salvador’s great surprise, was an unconscious man, badly sunburned and covered in blood. There were clothes shoved in the corner- military. Salvador wondered if he was one of those poor blokes who’s been forced into the military, and had managed to escape the harsh environment. If so, good for him. He didn’t want a stranger to die anyhow, Salvador was ruthless, but he never killed without reason (even if the reason was simply being bored). Sliding his hands underneath the man’s unconscious body, Salvador lifted him up bridal style and began carrying him back to his Abuela’s house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for graphic description of Axton's dead eye. Nothing too gory, I think.

  

                The first thing Axton saw when he awoke was a wooden ceiling. Not very noteworthy. With a groan, he rolled over, feeling soft, tattered sheets covering his body. Alright, that was new. Where was he? Why did everything hurt? He attempted to sit up, but immediately fell back on the bed with another weak noise as his head became alive with pain. Slowly, he began to remember the events leading up to his awakening; the escape, the endless rowing, and Sarah…

                But where was he now? And _why_ was he here? Craning his head, Axton saw a glass of water on the nightstand next to his bed. It took some effort, but he managed to sit up and grabbed the cup. He made short work of the drink and sighed, already feeling it’s chill throughout his parched body. He definitely felt better, but another glass or two sounded splendid right now. He’d have to wait, though. His body still felt too sore to stand up, so Axton preoccupied himself with peeling off the burnt skin on his arms, and looking around the room. It was bare, a little dusty, with only the bed, stand, and a vanity across from him inside. There was a door on the east wall as well, slightly ajar but not open enough for Axton see the other room. There was a window as well, across from the door, but the blinds were closed. The patch of sunlight leaking through told him it was daytime, and bright out.

                After a moment of mental preparation, Axton forced himself out of bed. His legs didn’t feel as awful as everything else from the waist up, and Axton was thankful for that. He approached the vanity first and crouched, looking eye-to-eye with himself and grimacing. He was a mess, grimy face aside. The sailor knew his eye was dead, based on the copious amounts of pain and blood during the shooting, but he had secretly hoped that the wound would’ve looked like an empty, clean socket in the end. Something he could a fit a glass eye into. His face had been cleared of blood, assumedly by whoever had brought him here, but his eye looked unsettling. The sclera was a pinkish hue, laced with curling red blood vessels. The pupil was a milky green, a watered-down version of his original startling eye color, and the iris a darker gray-pink that seemed to leak out of its orbital confinement. In short, his eye looked like it was melting, but luckily it posed no threat of dripping or bleeding out of the scabbed eyelids wrapped around it. He couldn’t close it all the way either, and attempting to do so left a strip of pale pink peeking out from the inflamed red skin. At the very least, he thought, it didn’t look infected. Or maybe it was, Axton was no doctor.

                He was mildly surprised by his lack of surprise at the loss of half his vision, but Axton assumed he’d worry about it when the shock wore off.

                Now that he had fully inspected himself, Axton wanted answers. His steps were teetering but he made his way to the door and nudged it open, peeking out with his good eye. There was a plump old woman asleep on a worn loveseat, and the sailor wasn’t sure if it was alright to wake her. Perhaps he’d be better off just sneaking out. His train of thought was derailed, however, when the front door burst open. In trudged a short, burly-looking man in rather formal captain’s clothing, and a skull tattooed onto his bearded face. It scared Axton at first, in all honestly, but after a moment he could see the man’s true features underneath all the ink. A large, broken nose, thick bottom lip, and a rather protruding brow bone. Quite handsome, in Axton’s opinion, but still intimidating.

                 He tried to back into his room again, but the tattooed man spotted Axton quickly and took quick strides over to him, yanking the bedroom door open. Axton nearly fell backwards, still feeling rather dizzy from everything he was currently taking in. It was uncharacteristic for him to shake like this, it really was, so it angered him slightly to see a twinge of pity in the shorter man’s eyes. He probably looked so helpless and skittish, but Axton would show this stranger what he was really capable of, once he got his bearings.

                “Sit down, idiot,” he laughs quietly, as to not awake the sleeping woman in the other room. Axton sat, throwing the stranger a glare that the other man didn’t seem to see.

                “Who the hell are you,” Axton said first, face immediately burning at how small his voice was from lack of use. He cleared his throat and asked again, voice clearer and purposely gruffer this time.

                “The man who saved your goddamn life,” the stranger snapped, causing Axton to shrink back a bit, “I’m asking the questions right now, _vale_?”

                His voice was deep and gravelly, saturated in a pleasantly thick Spanish accent. Axton nodded, looking at his entwined hands.

                “I found your life boat washed up the shore yesterday. You have the Dahl insignia tattooed on your brow.”

                “…I stole a boat.”

                “ _Que si_?”

                “And…took off.”

                “Why?”

                Axton shifted uncomfortably, looking at the door. “I was gonna be executed.”

                “But _why_?”

                “Trouble with the crew,” was his vague response. Salvador raised a thick eyebrow, but didn’t reply. Axton looked at him for a second before quickly shifting his eyes down again. “Look, I’m a little confused too,” he confessed, “Can’t you just…tell me who you are? Where I am?” Axton’s skin itched at the pitiful look the shorter man again gave him, but he tried to ignore it for now.

                “…I’m Salvador. I found your boat washed up on the beach. You’re in _La Corogne_.”

                “The what?”

                “Spain, you’re in Spain.”

                Axton made a choking noise.

                “Well where did your ship come from, eh?” Salvador asked, not masking his amusement, “England? You’ve got the accent alright.”

                “We were only sailing for a week or so… _Spain?!_ ” Axton sputtered. Salvador assumed he was right about England.

                “Calm down amigo,” Salvador said, “have anywhere to go?”

“Not really.”

                “You know your eye is fucked up now?”

                “I’m vaguely aware, yes.”

                Salvador rested his thickly bearded chin on his hand, grinning faintly. Whether he meant to be or not, this ex-sailor was fairly humorous. “What’s your name, _cariño_?”

                “Axton.”

                The grin that remained on Salvador’s face flipped into a slight grimace. Why did Englishmen give their children such ugly names? Still, this young man seemed alright, especially for someone who’d just lost half their vision. “So what are your plans then?” Salvador said, trying to avoid speaking that god-awful name aloud. Spanish names always rolled off the tongue, he thought, English ones were fickle, and clunky at best. Although he presumed that he could get used to Axton’s name, Salvador decided to focus more on the actual character of the man.

Axton reluctantly answered that he had no plans, and had basically figured he would die after a few hours in that awful lifeboat. He thought at first it was heatstroke that caused him to pass out, but Salvador explained that it was not the case. Obviously, he concurred, it was blood loss. He praised the young man on recovering so well, despite the few more weeks of healing he had to endure. Salvador then proposed that some sea air would do him well, in an actual ship of course. _His_ ship.

                “Your…ship?” Axton said slowly, squinting at the shorter man.

                “ _Si_ , but it’s more or less a glorified yacht,” Salvador responded, “Only me on there.”

                “Only you…”

                “I’m all I need, _cariño_. But you’re still welcome to join me for a while. A little help couldn’t hurt, I think.”

                “You’re…a pirate.”

                “Look at the brains on this one. Just letting you know if you say yes, I _will_ eat you if you try to stab my back.”

                “But how do I know I can trust _you_?” Of course Axton was skeptical, he still had a lot of questions. And panic was starting to settle in waves that beat in sync with his dead eye. His hands started to feel clammy and his good eye blurred for a second. He shook his head quickly, mildly subduing the anxiety that was creeping up on him, and looking at Salvador for a reassuring answer.

                Instead the one-man crew only shrugged and said, “I got you this far, I guess. We’ll leave in three days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cariño means something along the lines of darling or sweetheart. Next chapter's going to switch to Jack, and maybe a little info about Maya.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief look into the Hyperion military battleship.

  The Hyperion battleship was arguably the most beautiful vessel ever to touch the sea. It had a baroque-esque style to it, no doubt to fit the pleasure of the captain's eye. But no ship was fooled by its delicate features or aristocratic crew. The boat was a titan, larger than life, so large you would think its massive size would be its downfall. But its captain- Handsome Jack himself, was no fool. Hundreds of armies, pirates, and fleets have been crushed beneath his meticulously polished boots. He was unstoppable, and he knew it.  

  Jack's ego was nearly as large as his ship as well, fueled by his history of distant royalty and an enormous fortune. And if one were to assume he would hoard it all, well, they'd be quite wrong. He spared no expenses when it came to the construction of his ship, his luxuries, necessities, his crew, and his lovely first mate. And as far as he was concerned, he just kept gaining.    
 

  But currently, the captain wasn't concerned with military matters, he hadn't been for years, actually, but such things tended to spring up. What Handsome Jack wanted now, and had wanted for a few years or so, was not treasure, or land, but a creature. 

  A leviathan, known as the Warrior.  

  Jack had power, he knew he was near invincible. But if he was to cleanse the sea of pirates, enemies, and whatever creatures lurked below the surface, he'd need the help of something far more powerful, more god-like than he. A weapon of mass destruction.    
 

  But to find the warrior, Jack would need a siren. A powerful being to search the depths of the ocean for his leviathan. Miraculously, his daughter, Angel, was one of these beings. Her near-constant need to be in salt water was a large reason as to why Jack took up a life in the seas. But she was still too young to explore the vast, dangerous waters. He needed another siren.   
 

  Cue Rhys, the captain's first mate. He was discovered (and kidnapped) by a team from Jack's crew sent to explore England for any information regarding sirens, or the Warrior. Rhys, which his elegant blue tattoos that swirled gracefully from his pectoral to his wrist, had been posing as a siren, letting visitors look (and sometimes touch) for a fee. These tattoos were not of a real siren, however, as Jack shouted this information to the group that had taken the poor man. To his surprise, however, Rhys seemed eager to stay, and was given the job of cleaning parts of the ship. But as he and the captain became closer, Rhys was given more and more promotions, and his former job was given to an unlucky ex-banker and Rhys' friend, Vaughn. Though Jack certainly wasn't lonely at night any longer, this was just more time lost for finding his siren, and ultimately, the Warrior.    
 

  Jack often reviewed this in his head as he worked by his desk, or on the deck when he needed fresh sea air. As a captain he was harsh, even cruel, but never unfair. His temper was not one to be matched. But feeling the soft sway of the boat helped calm Jack, as it was doing now. The sun beat upon the back of his neck, but his feathered hat shaded his scarred face.  Today was a peaceful day, he noted, plenty clouds meant good weather ahead. It was still early though, but they were less than a day's sail from the mainland if the weather turned sour. Angel was on the deck, humming to herself as she watched the ocean over the side of the ship longingly. But she had just swam a few hours ago, Jack having to scream to call her back after she tried to follow a pod of whales. He knew Rhys was below the deck, helping with navigation and such. It was a blessing he made it on the ship, really, Jack couldn't wrap his head around maps. And compasses, for Christ's sake, were impossible. But he supposed he had to learn at least the basic understanding if he didn't want himself and his entire crew stranded.    
 

  Jack suddenly stepped back from the side of the boat, nearly tripping on one of the ship's cats. If a cat was on deck, unattended, it probably meant his brother was busy in the kitchen. Timothy was almost entirely useless, and countless times Jack regretted ever bringing him aboard the massive battleship. But it wasn't like his brother had any home to return to, and he was a decent cook. There was just a problem of Tim's health, as he got seasick far too often and was still recovering from scurvy.  

  His excuse was that he didn't want to eat _limes_ , that they were too _tangy_. The consequences of this was the permanent loss of his top front teeth, and unattractive dark rings around his eyes.    
Jack was tempted to check on his brother, but he knew he had far more pressing concerns. The top of the list (and it was a long list) was a military ship that was currently threatening his plans. He hadn't paid much attention to them at first; they were about as harmless as the Slab Pirates that vigorously defended the coast of Louisbourg. But the Crimson Raiders were slowly gaining power, and worrying Jack.  

  All this stress wasn't good for him, maybe he'd let Rhys take care of things for a day or two while he relaxed.  

  Until he talked things through, however, he had to check provisions, cannons, and so on. It was ridiculous how often pirates attempted to attack their colossal ship.    
  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for minor fish gore

Axton had a pleasant, if not hazy first few days at Salvador's abuela's house. Then the shock wore off. 

It early morning outside the home, as Axton gutted a fish. He was never much of a squeamish man, and didn't mind staring past the milky film of the cod's eye as red and purple intestines spilled across the rock he was working on. With a grunt, he hacked off the head, or at least tried. His knife wasn't very sharp to begin with and only made a comical dent in the fish, and the filmy eye bugged from its socket. Axton tried again, and the eye popped out, hanging loosely from rubbery tendons. 

Through his constant, but faint, headache, Axton became aware of a fuzziness over his blinded eye. Similar to when your hand falls asleep. Axton hadn't taken note of this before, but now it was beginning to bother him greatly. He subconsciously picked at his scabbed eyelid, and the aching, raw area where his eyelashes used to be. It caused his gut to knot and writhe uncomfortably, and Axton decided to finish up the fish. 

He skinned the meat free and left the rest for the gulls before heading back to the house. The waves crashed soothingly against the shore, and Axton tried to focus on that instead of the growing panic over his blinded eye. 

He wasn't able to calm down until much later, when given hot tea by Salvador's abuela. Axton then profusely apologized for dropping the fish in the sand when Salvador found him. 

These panic attacks occurred daily for the next week, along with frequent bleeding from all the tossing and turning as Axton slept uneasily. This, and the painful ointment applied to the wound to prevent infection, didn't help his state of mind. But Salvador was oddly spot-on with his prediction that a bit of sea air would do the sailor some good. 

"That," he said, "and a bit of plundering," which Axton wasn't totally against. 

So for then next week or so, the sailor and the pirate spent the afternoons cruising by the shores. This allowed Axton to become familiar with the boat and her captain. It was surprisingly pleasant, as curious fish would approach the sides and blow kisses above the water. Their odd fins have them the appearance of wings, or perhaps ears. Axton found them very cute, despite how large some of them were. They seemed harmless enough as well. Later in the day Axton waded along the beach, to watch the fish swim around him and meekly brush against his legs. 

But such a quiet life didn't suit either man, Salvador already having plans to leave sooner before Axton appeared out of nowhere. And the sailor felt a faster pace would take his mind off of the dull ache of his head and the sudden loss of his depth perception. 

Before the third week, Salvador kissed his abuela goodbye and the two men set off, having spent the last few days stocking up on provisions and checking the ship over and over again. 

As the last strip of green disappeared beyond the sea line, Axton felt the shiver of excitement that usually came to him when leaving the land. He stole a glance at Salvador, and his confident stand by the sails. The captain lived by no rules other than his own, Axton would have to mind that if a fight ever broke out between the two. It would be just them, surrounded by miles and miles of open sea. Axton began to sweat, knowing how easily this pirate would kill him.  
But, why would he? He had his chance to during those past weeks, Axton told himself. He could take care of himself, even if Salvador turned out not to be trustworthy. 

Axton felt a small bump from the boat and stood quickly, his train of thought stalled temporarily. 

"Salvador, what was that?" he called tentatively, over the salty wind that whipped at the fabric wrapped snugly about his head. He heard no response from the captain, and thus decided to investigate himself. Axton took a few steps and leaned over the side of the boat to search for the source of the bump. 

Only shimmering sea met his eye as Axton looked, not even an array of fish to give a clue as to what happened. Axton checked the other side of the ship, then the back, away from Salvador's field of vision. 

He caught a sky-blue glint, different from the turquoise of the sea. Stupidly, Axton thought the flash of color may have belonged to a shark. Only sharks didn't have scales, nor any interest in boats. Again he saw the glint, and leaned closer to the water, so close that the ocean spray hit his eye and his face scrunched up in discomfort. 

When Axton opened his eye again, he saw a chalk-white arm reaching out of the churning waters, barely grazing his nose. Axton fell back into the boat with a panicked shout, grabbing the attention of Salvador.

"What the hell are you screaming about?" he snapped over the noise of the sea, "Is there a ship? With all that noise there better be a ship!" 

Axton stood and watched the water from the safety of the deck, speechless for what he saw. The arm was still grasping, adorned with circular scars and lovely blue patterns that swirled up to the shoulder. Attached to that shoulder was a coldly beautiful woman, who regarded Axton with one icy blue eye. The other was hidden by a makeshift eyepatch, an iridescent shell. 

She wasn't sinking, she wasn't even moving her arms to tread water. Pearls of liquid dropped from her deep blue hair, then rolling off her pale shoulders and melding with the sea. She only glared at Axton in a way that sent a chill down the man's spine, no words slipping past her shimmering blue lips. 

The markings, the deadly beauty, the faint gills etched into her neck.

A siren.


End file.
